


An Imperfect Romance

by Sophrederick



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, FLUFFYFLUFF, valentinesfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 07:44:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sophrederick/pseuds/Sophrederick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Uther plans everything perfectly for Valentine's Day and Igraine steals his thunder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Imperfect Romance

**Author's Note:**

> I get tired of women seeming to think valentine's day just means the guy does work and she sits back and enjoys it, so I have Igraine taking the lead a bit here. Happy Valentines Day!!! <3

Uther planned the perfect romantic evening for Valentine’s day, he really did. He’d made reservations a month in advance at Igraine’s favorite high-end restaurant (without telling her), found a gold charm bracelet chronicling their relationship (all on his own), and even found a sitter willing to take Arthur on Valentine’s day.

So of course it all blew up in his face.

 

The week leading up to Valentine’s day made Uther want to tear his hair out. He worked for a firm that prosecuted large corporations harming the environment. Naturally, the trial against a drug company dumping waste in a river was scheduled for Thursday (Valentines day.)

On Monday the lawyer in charge on the case managed to flip his bike and concuss himself, taking Uther from assisting to in charge. Taking him from leaving work at 5 that week to leaving work at 8 in an attempt to get caught up.

On Tuesday morning, instead of a trickle of coffee, the pot put out a giant puddle of water on the counter.

On Wednesday night Uther slept a wholesome two hours by the time he wound down and stopped worrying enough to fall asleep.

Thursday was actually picture perfect; Uther drank his coffee from his new coffee pot, performed in court, and won his case. But by the time he finally made it home Uther was exhausted from a week of sleep deprivation and fighting a not-quite-migraine, courtesy of unwise amounts of caffeine and their subsequent crash.

But it was Valentine’s day, and he planned it perfectly, and if he wasn’t feeling top notch that was no excuse not to take his wife out and show her how much he loved her.

 

He walked in the door that evening to find Igraine wearing one of his t-shirts, yoga pants, and slippers. Because apparently that’s what she understood from “I’ll be home late tonight, but I’m still taking you out, so wear something nice.” At least he thinks that’s what he told her; he’d only been halfway through his first cup of coffee.

Naturally Uther’s brain decided to bombard him with a sort of sad resigned anger. Falling onto the couch, he dropped his face into his hands, trying not to yell at his wife and trying not to cry and failing at both.

“Why?” he sobbed, looking up at her from his protective finger cage. “Why couldn’t you just be dressed?!” He stood, lowering and clenching his spread hands. “I just wanted to make everything perfect! Why can’t I- ” he choked, sitting back down staring at his hands upturned on his knees.

Igraine sat next to him and drew him into her arms. “We’re not going out tonight. We’re staying in.”

“But we have reservations, and a sitter and it was all planned.” Uther whined as much like a mature man as is possible.

Igraine smiled her enigmatic little smirk. “Isaac and Trista are using the reservations since we never found them a Christmas present. It wasn’t hard to find out where they were for. The sitter cancelled, and Arthur is spending the night with my brother. You know Tristan just dotes on him, and it keeps him from being alone tonight.”

Uther’s head had sagged onto her shoulder, and he clutched the hand draped over his shoulder in both of his protectively, or for protection. 

“But it was supposed to be perfect,” he started pitifully. “I was supposed to take you out for dinner and dancing, and bring you home, and take you out on the balcony. I was supposed to tell you how much you mean to me and give you a present, and I was supposed to sweep you off your feet like a prince. It was supposed to be perfect.”

His last repetition sent Igraine into an oh-so-ladylike snorting peal of laughter. “Since when have we ever paid attention to ‘supposed to’s?” She asked.

“In a perfect world, we’re the same age and my family loves you. I was supposed to grow up and have a baby girl and walk on the moon. Tristan would get married and have a child for her to play with and we would have perfect little get-togethers. So maybe you were supposed to take me out and shower me with gifts. But our relationship is built on what is, not what’s ‘supposed to be’.”

She turned him toward her and wiped a tear off his cheek with her thumb. “A lot of things were ‘supposed to’ happen. As it stands, I’m seven years older than you and Tristan is the only family I talk to. Nimueh carried Arthur for me and I love my little boy, and I love staying home to take care of him and paint. I love meeting Tristan’s string of boyfriends and I love how good he is with Arthur even though he never wants his own. I love him and I love you, and we’re staying in on Valentine’s Day because this is our real life relationship, not an eight-year-old’s fantasy, not a fairy tale, and not a movie.”

She gently kissed her silently weeping husband and drew him into the bedroom. Uther stood staring adoringly while she tracked down his pink fleece heart pajamas (a present from Tristan), and let her remove and replace his stiff black business suit.

He followed her like a duckling into the dining room and sat across from her as she served him pizza. After a slice of taking a bite and glancing at her in wonder, Uther finally spoke.

“How did you even happen?” He tried to get up, but something in his manner must have given him away.

“If you’re trying to get some shiny bauble for me, save it. Tonight isn’t about things, it’s about us, and it’s about you. I love you. Let me show you.” And she proceeded to shove another half slice of pizza into his mouth, preventing him from saying anything further until she’d suitable distracted him.

By the time they’d eaten as much as they could without hurting themselves (which was an admirable amount), Uther’s tears had dried and he’d forgotten his rotten week.

“Now, you mentioned a balcony?” Igraine pulled Uther from his chair and led him outside, donning robes and his slippers on the way. He tried to detour to his dresser to pocket her bracelet and was promptly turned around and marched out the door instead. Uther went to stand over the rail, only to be pushed onto the lounger chair and followed by his wife behind him.

“Remember, this is for you. I’ve always thought it a bit hypocritical that you’re expected to spoil me for Valentine’s Day and our Anniversary but there’s not a day for me to spoil you.” As Igraine pushed him forward and draped his stolen robe over his lap and front.

Uther tried to speak, “Do you even know how much I love yo-oh!” 

Igraine responded by pressing harder into the knot in his back. “How do you expect to keep saving the world if you don’t let me save you? Relax.” Within fifteen minutes she’d exorcised the stress from his upper back and could go no further, due to the angle of the barely conscious slump he’d melted into.

“Come darling. Into bed with you.”The tired man again let himself be herded into the bedroom and tucked in, smiling as he drifted off.

 

Uther came to the next morning alone in the bed in the exact position in which he’d fallen asleep. The smell of something burning alarmed him, until he heard laughter and smelled delightfully unburnt coffee.

He made his way to the kitchen and stood in the doorway just watching as Tristan and Arthur, both in frilly pink aprons, served Igraine sausage and only slightly burnt French Toast.

“DADDY!!!!” the boy screamed, running and launching himself at his father. “Uncle Tristan and I colored and we made a fort and we made you breakfast! Come see!” and so dragged Uther over to the fridge to admire the picture stuck to it with magnets.

Uther had time to decipher a four-year-old’s rendition of himself and Igraine and bunches of floating hearts and flowers before being dragged and pushed into a chair in the breakfast nook opposite his wife. As a hand slid a mug of coffee in front of him he was relieved to see it belonged to his brother in law rather than his son. 

“Extra strong, extra sweet. Just for you Uther Pie.” Tristan gave him a big smack on the cheek before growling like a monster and chasing a squealing Arthur to his room.

Finally getting a moment to address Igraine, Uther faced a proud smile of contentment. He stood and pulled her up, kissing the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, the laugh lines around her mouth, and finally the mouth itself.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He whispered, leading her to the bedroom so he could finally give her that stupid charm bracelet.


End file.
